


Encumbered

by Guardian Of The Lotus (DistantStorm)



Series: Fictober 2019 [25]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/Guardian%20Of%20The%20Lotus
Summary: Eva Levante confronts an old friend.Written for Day 25 of the Fictober 2019 Challenge on Tumblr: "I could really eat something."





	Encumbered

Eva Levante’s footfalls are slower now. Less sure. Reliant on her cane, she traverses the unfamiliar territory slowly, with great care. This new Tower does not have the same grandeur, the same legacy of its predecessor, put together quickly to accommodate a transition back from the wilds and abroad.

As she passes, people are still making improvements and reinforcements. Many frames are cleaning up rubble and dust that never would have been present at the old Tower and areas are being moved into, with much of the dedicated space still sparse and lacking decoration. It’s not home yet, she thinks, but they are all making due. Not unlike the Farm, there is a very tender sort of hope planted in this place, fostered by everyone doing their best to move on and come together.

She has to think about which direction to go in, because she doesn’t have her footing in this labyrinth. Things are more stacked up, the spaces in this new area more compact. Eventually, she is certain they will work to make it sprawl out, to beautify and really breathe life into this space. But those things take time. It’s barely been a year since the War ended.

The door she seeks looks like it was probably moved from a different place - it does not match the very utilitarian walls around it. It’s white instead of the graphite of the walls, polished and adorned with the golden sigil of the Guardians. She is certain that the occupant of this office did not ask for such a gesture, but she knows without fail that countless others would push for it in his stead. 

It is hardly cracked open, just a sliver of light pooling into the dim, shady hallway. She peeks in, sees him there, and her heart swells with emotion. Amanda and Tess had told her what had happened, about all the political tripmines and the great grief that gripped the Tower and its inhabitants, striking fear and uncertainty into all of them, Guardian and non-Guardian alike.

He looks tired, she thinks sadly. Encumbered.

The desire she has to help him is - has always been - overwhelmingly fierce. She thought about what she would say the entire way up here, how she would greet him after all this time, but when she pushes the door open and raps her weathered knuckles against the faux marble plating on the door she doesn’t have a single word of it in her mind.

Zavala does not look up. “Amanda, I know you-”

Her cane thumps against the tiled floor with the same cadence as his speech as she bids herself entry regardless of his wishes. She had asked Amanda to make something up, to ensure he’d have the time blocked out. The Shipwright had done as Eva asked, even though she’d warned her that it wouldn’t stop him from making excuses. He was… difficult to approach, these days.

“-wanted me to meet you tonight, however I am-”

Eva isn’t sure if he looks up because of her cane making a different sound than normal footsteps would, or if perhaps it’s because she has not interrupted him already like Amanda surely would have. Maybe she’s just moved so quickly across the tiny space in haste that her silhouette eclipsing his desk gave him pause. But she sees the realization strike him harder than a Fist of Havoc ever could. He stares at her, whatever excuse he could have made leaving him in a whoosh of air that’s far too dignified to be a gasp, and yet so perfectly Zavala. 

_“You,”_ He breathes in disbelief, swallowing hard. “You’re here.” Oh, how she has missed him, she thinks as she opens her arms to him in an offering gesture and smiles as if to say, _me._

“Hello, my friend.”

Her cane clatters to the floor when he embraces her, the hasty action of an old woman who cannot stop herself from looping her arms around his neck. But she is not the only hasty one. He hugs her tight, ever mindful of his strength, trembling. When he draws back to look at her with those brilliant eyes of his, she tuts, bringing a hand up to the back of his head and pulling him in once more.

“I have missed you,” She breathes softly in his ear and she knows he hears: he hugs her just the slightest bit harder.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, after a moment. Eva suspects it would have come out sooner, but the words are thick in his mouth. He’s always hidden it well, but he is a treasure trove of emotion, feeling so much and so deeply, too.

She wipes the tears that have gathered in the corner of her eyes away with shaking hands and looks him in the eye. “I suspect you don’t really need another shader vendor,” She begins, the faintest touch of humor in her voice. “This is a personal visit.”

Zavala looks to her as if she could be the hundredth shader vendor in the Tower and she’d be given lease on the spot if he had a say in the matter. “I’m sure Tess is thrilled to see you,” He begins, quieter. “Amanda, too.”

“Yes,” She agrees. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you, either. Especially after we just missed each other at the Farm,” Eva pats his arms as he steps back, dipping gracefully to retrieve her discarded cane. He evaluates her with serious scrutiny and she raps his shin-guard with her cane, dipping her head lest she laugh outright at what must be a look of great surprise on his features. Being his friend means taking liberties others wouldn’t ever dream to. Instead of voicing this, she settles on an, “I am fine, Zavala. The wounds have long since healed.”

He retrieves her a chair quickly, anyway, dragging his from around his desk, giving her an exaggerated quirk of one eyebrow over how heavily she leans on her cane. “You’re sure?” He asks, hoarsely.

“Yes,” She says, sounding just shy of annoyed. He waits for her to sit before he does. “I am far more worried about you,” Eva continues. “Things have not been-”

“I am making due,” He interrupts.

“Bull,” She bites back, stern. The wide-eyed look of surprise from him would earn him a laugh, but this is no laughing matter. “Tell me the truth,” Eva asks of him.

The answer takes time, comes out in a soft rumble. “I don’t know.”

Once corner of her lips comes up in a sad smile. Her hand presses over his, on the armrest of his chair. “It’s okay not to, you know. These things take time.”

“I cannot-” He breaks off and does not continue, so Eva does in his stead.

“You are not alone, my friend. Not in your grief, and not in your duty. It’s okay to lean on others, sometimes.” She tips her head to the side. “There are new faces in our midst who seem well-equipped to assist, don’t you think?” He swallows and she reads the tell, laying her cane back down beside her. “And Sloane,” Eva reminds him. “She’s always had your back. She would not want you collapsing under the weight of this all alone.”

“I know,” Zavala admits, those earnest blue eyes staring deeply into hers.

Eva’s voice is gentle. “And the rest of us would do anything for you, you know that. It’s okay to grieve him.”

He sighs, heavy under the strain. “You didn’t like him.”

“My sadness is rarely for the departed,” Her lip curls slightly. Her opinion of the deceased Hunter Vanguard does not matter. It never did. “These days, I mourn for those who remain.” Her hand squeezes his before she lets go. Her eyes take on a look then that reminds Zavala for all his centuries of life, for all the wisdom he’s gained, he will never be a match for Eva Levante. “And I find that talking to someone,” She says, firm and gentle all at once, concern radiating from her in waves, “It really helps.”

Any fight - any pretenses of holding up this charade of having it all together, for her sake or his - leaves him. “I don’t think I’ve eaten today,” He admits after another moment, almost bashful. “Would you-”

She shakes her head, the mothering rebuke left unsaid. She can chastise him later. “I could really eat something,” She indulges him, after pretending to mull it over innocently enough. "And then perhaps tea, assuming you still keep some hidden away in your office?"

Zavala's answer is both relieved and immediate. “I think that can be arranged,” He says, rising to offer her an arm.

Eva takes it, letting him pull her up, and leaves her cane where it lies. He’ll feel better if they’re leaning on each other and that suits Eva just fine.


End file.
